Mistakes Come In Threes
by FrostedFox
Summary: The boy’s eyes narrowed and a flicker of disgust twisted his lips into a sneer. “I’m your son jackass.”
1. Visitors

Title: Mistakes Come In Three Pairs

Summary: The boy's eyes narrowed and a flicker of disgust twisted his lips into a sneer. "I'm your son jackass."

A/N: Have had this idea forever! But just as a warning you should know that I probably won't update as much as I should. It's just an idea and I don't know how well it's going to work out.

Disclaimer: Pah I wish I owned Prison Break! 'Cept if I did, the show probably wouldn't do that well what with me not knowing much about television business and all :P

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Sucre leant into the guard break room and tapped on the blue iron door. "Bulls are coming." He hissed. There was a flurry of activity as everyone covered the whole and tried to find regular jobs to do.

T-Bag idly lifted a piece of insulation and slowly began to make his way across the room in an act to appear like he was actually working. The dark skinned guard – the one that had a special place of hatred in T-Bag's heart simply cause he chose the wrong skin to wear – walked in.

"Bagwell, let's go. You got a visitor." The activity stopped and the other cons looked at T-Bag who merely smiled.

"A visitor? For little ol' me? Ah shucks Badge, ain't this just the best day?"

"Ya ya, shut up and get movin'."

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The kid was already sitting there when T-Bag was escorted into the visitor's room. A steel barrier separated him from the kid, obscuring T-Bag's vision slightly but he could still take in the messy brown hair – like the boy had just rolled out of bed and come here – and the narrowed brown eyes like he disliked being in the prison.

"An' who might you be little man?" T-Bag drawled, watching the boy fidget. He couldn't be more than fifteen.

"You Theodore Bagwell?" The kid asked, a nervous edge to his Southern accent.

"Sayin' you don't know who you're visitin'?" The boy glanced around the room. He had deep chocolate eyes, 'meltin' eyes if they weren't so nervous.' T-Bag figured. "What's a little boy like you comin' to visit a guy like me? Just askin' for trouble."

"Ya well, she who must be obeyed was in a mood this mornin'." The kid grumbled sullenly. He jumped at the sound of an inmate's raised voice and twisted in his seat to see the source of commotion before once again turning around, his knee jiggling and his hands clenched together.

T-Bag starred at the boy, something about him was familiar…"Do I know you?" The boy snorted and finally looked T-Bag in the eyes, the nervous edge gone.

"No."

T-Bag studied him for a second before shrugging carelessly and leaning back. "Ya neva answered ma question boy. What ya doin' here?…If ya were thinkin' ya'd get somethin' by coming here then you came to the wrong place. Gotta ask for a conjical see." A smirk tugged at T-Bag's lips as he watched the boy's eyes narrow and a flicker of disgust twist his lips up into a sneer.

"I'm your son jackass."


	2. Damian

Title: Mistakes Come In Threes

Summary: The boy's eyes narrowed and a flicker of disgust twisted his lips into a sneer. "I'm your son jackass."

Disclaimer: Pah I wish I owned Prison Break! 'Cept if I did, the show probably wouldn't do that well what with me not knowing much about television business and all :P

ssoko: Thanks for the review, and I'm glad it snagged your interest lol.

Storywriter: Thanks for messaging, I'm glad you like it!

bbplayer005: hehe, I'm glad you enjoy it. I hope that my writingness sticks around long enough for me to finish the story, cause I've had this idea for ages.

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T-Bag re-entered the guardroom, knowing that the work period was almost over and really there was little to no sense of him returning, but the Bulls didn't want him 'wandering'.

The iron door slammed shut and the silence thickened as T-Bag casually pretended to work. He could hear the others shifting, and slowly muttering, and the fact that they wanted to know who the visitor was and only he had the power to tell them made T-Bag grin.

"This all don't seem equitable like, me workin' an the rest of ya'll just kickin' it back." T-Bag said finally, turning around as a slow grin spread across his face.

"We're all just wonderin' who'd want to visit your sodomizing ass." Abruzzi said lazily, leaning casually against the dry wall.

"Oh is that so John?" T-Bag replied.

"Look, it isn't our business so just…" Michael trailed off lamely upon receiving the glares from five different cons. T-Bag gave a small laugh and shifted his weight, casually tossing the piece of sanding paper he had in his hand.

"Funny you should mention that Pretty. See my little visitor has _a lot_ to do with all ya'lls business." T-Bag grinned again, loving the pissed off expressions that were growing ever more prominent on the other cons faces. They wanted to know badly before, now that they knew it had something to do with them, well it was driving them nuts!

"Gonna spew sometime soon Cletus or are we going to have to make you?" C-Note growled. T-Bag held up his hands then and laughed, there expressions would be even more priceless.

"Turns out the man you've all come to know and love – yours truly." T-Bag added, inclining his head dramatically. "Gots a little boy runnin' 'round Chicago and he's found out allllll sorts o' things." T-Bag grinned, recounting stories were the best when the listeners didn't know jack shit.

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_"I'm your son jackass." The boy growled, a light pink decorating his tanned cheeks for a moment. T-Bag sat back and folded his arms across his chest letting out a low whistle. Now he knew why the boy looked so familiar. He was practically T-Bag's spitting image; same pointed nose, dark messy hair, thin lips and stocky build. Only thing different was the darker eye colour and tanned skin._

"_Whats ya name?" T-Bag asked. The boy fidgeted again before leaning back in his chair and sighing softly._

"_Damian." Damian replied. T-Bag nodded and Damian glanced over at the clock, his eyes widening as he seemed to realise the time. T-Bag glanced over to, visiting time was almost over. Damian leaned forward in his seat, ducking his head low and his eyes flitting cautiously around the room again._

"_Listen," He all but whispered, motioning T-Bag to lean in to. "I know what you're plannin'." T-Bag's eyebrows shot up but he didn't say anything. "I can help, phone this number tomorrow mornin' at eleven. It's gotta be at eleven!" Damian stressed, his brown eyes wide as his tongue darted across his thin lips. "Numbers: 565-234-7877. Ya got that?" T-Bag rolled his eyes back, mentally storing the number. _

"_How do ya know?" T-Bag asked suspiciously. What if this kid, Damian wasn't actually who he said he was. What if he was someone just trying to get information off of T-Bag? But then again, why now? And why him?_

"_That don't matter right now. What matters is you makin' that call." Damian said with whispered earnest before leaning back as the guard called out that visiting time was over. He slowly got out of his chair and looked over at T-Bag, the ghost of a smile, his first since T-Bag had set eyes on him, flickered across his lips. "Don't disappoint me Teddy." He said before turning and walking away. T-Bag watched him go before the badge came and yanked him to his feet. _

_Who knew that Theodore Bagwell had a son, and this son…this son **knew** and wanted to help. _

'_How could he help?' The thought repeatedly occurred in T-Bag's mind as he was taken back to the guardroom. But he knew as soon as the number and tumbled from Damian's mouth, he would make the call._


	3. Make The Call

Title: Mistakes Come In Threes

Summary: The boy's eyes narrowed and a flicker of disgust twisted his lips into a sneer. "I'm your son jackass."

Disclaimer: Pah I wish I owned Prison Break! 'Cept if I did, the show probably wouldn't do that well what with me not knowing much about television business and all :P

A/N: Spring break is this week and my mum and I are going to Scotland so for two weeks there are gonna be no updates. I'll try to get another one up before I go which is Saturday, butI can't be sure. Anyways, hope you like this one :D

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_7877…_T-Bag carefully punched in the numbers and turned, hazel eyes sweeping the prison yard. It was eleven, give or take a few minutes. The ring tone purred softly in T-Bag's ear until finally it was cut off and a young boy's voice replaced the sound.

"Ya?" It said gruffly though there was underlying nerves.

"Now is that anyway to be answer tha phone boy?" T-Bag drawled, a shrewd grin momentarily playing along his lips.

"That you!" Damian suddenly spoke up from the other end of the phone, sounding relieved and then once again anxious. "What happened to you? I told ya to be phonin' at eleven!"

"It is eleven." T-Bag said frowning and leaning against the phone box.

"Elevenish." Damian hissed back, "Thought you weren't a gonna call, woulda changed everythin'…" The boy's voice slowly died out.

"Jus' relax boy, what are ya on about?" T-Bag asked, frowning again. How would a five-minute late phone call change everything? What was everything? Once again the doubtful thoughts struck T-Bag; he didn't know who this kid was. Ya Damian looked like him and it was possible…but how could he help? _How did he know?_

"Look, I ain't the one to tell ya'll what to do, but Celia is. Ah'll put her on the phone, listen to her mind, you gotta remember what she says right?"

"Sho'nuff." T-Bag said, licking his lips. There was a sound of the phone transferring hands and then,

"Theodore Bagwell?" The voice was cool and clear, the higher alto of a female voice. T-Bag stood up straight suddenly, the voice sent off little warning bells in his head.

"Who's this?" T-Bag said, he wanted answer and he wanted them now. Wasn't he the head honcho of the alliance? Didn't he deserve some respect, none of this being kept in the dark business.

"You'll find out soon enough Theodore, if all goes well." The voice replied smoothly. T-Bag wracked his mind, Damian had mentioned the name Celia, was this voice that person?

"Celia?" T-Bag questioned, wrinkling his nose slightly in distaste for the name. Far to proper for him. Mind you Theodore wasn't much better.

"Damian has been talking I see." The voice said softly, like the unknown person on the other end was smiling. The smile from the female's voice disappeared though and a much more serious tone took over. "I know what you are planning Theodore, I know who is involved and I know that time is running out." T-Bag hissed and looked over his shoulder again to make sure no one heard. He placed his other hand at the mouth of the phone and pressed the earpiece hard against his ear.

"Look missy, I don't know who ya are-"

"That's right Theodore, you do not know who I am." The words were soft, serious and matter of fact, but there was a hidden bitter twist to them that stopped T-Bag. An image of Damian's defiant face floated in his mind, as he spoke bitter word 'No'.

"Listen to me Mr. Bagwell, I can help you. Mr. Scofield's plan is risky, very risky actually, but it just might work. I know of somewhere that you all can stay, if you are willing. Damian will be waiting for you in the first alleyway of Fitz. Tell the others." The voice paused for a moment and then continued. "Do not be late Theodore, timing is everything." The line went dead and T-Bag was left, hands wrapped around the phone until his knuckles turned white. Slowly T-Bag hung the phone up and stared off into the distance, idly running a hand through his thin hair.

"Hey let's keep it movin' pervert." Someone from behind spoke up. T-bag turned around, eyes glittering. A fairly large inmate glared back, cracking his knuckles threateningly. T-bag let a slow smile spread across his lips as he swaggered close to the man.

"Betta be watchin' your mouth. Wouldn't want to end up in any sort of…trouble." T-Bag drawled, enjoying the glimmer of regret and fear that ran fleetingly through the other man's eyes. T-Bag snorted before turning and walking away, he'd go find the others and tell them, and then he'd figure out what the hell was going on.

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"I dunno Papi, sounds dangerous." Sucre said, turning to Michael who lent against the fence, blue eyes starring off into the distance. "I mean how are we supposed to know if this chika and his son really want to help us."

"How did they find out? Are they friends of yours fish?" Abruzzi questioned. Michael ran a hand over his shaved head, and frowned.

"I don't know who they are, I don't know how they found out I covered all of my tracks…" T-Bag watched the others reactions, tongue between his teeth.

"Shouldn't trust them." Lincoln spoke up, shaking his head. "We don't know what they want…"

"But if they knew…why wouldn't they say anything? Why wait to that night?" Michael said, more to himself than to anyone else.

"I got guys on the outside who are pickin' us up, we don't have to worry about these two people." C-Note interrupted.

"Thing is, we don't know how many of them there are, and they're on our way out." Scofield stated.

"What are we gonna do Fish?" Sucre asked, his voice nervous. "I gotta a baby comin' man I don't want to be jeop-ar-dizing anything with these _personas locas _out there." He opened his mouth to go into a rant but Michael cut him off,

"Look, there's nothing we can do while we're in here. These people are virtually untraceable; all we have are two names. We don't know if they actually want to help or not. We'll stick with the original plan, if things change…well we'll see what this Damian and Celia have to offer."


	4. Better buckle up

Title: Mistakes Come In Three

Summary: The boy's eyes narrowed and a flicker of disgust twisted his lips into a sneer. "I'm your son jackass."

Disclaimer: Pah I wish I owned Prison Break! 'Cept if I did, the show probably wouldn't do that well what with me not knowing much about television business and all :P

Author's Note: Phoar remember this story guys? Ya, been a long time since I've updated. Sorry bout that.

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The last bolt fell into Westmoreland's hands as the other cons scrabbled to prevent the large pipe from crashing down.

"Whoa ¡Este pedazo de la mierda está hombre pesado!" Sucre growled, arms straining.

"You got it?" C-note asked, his voice as strained as Sucre's.

"I got it."

"I got it."

"We got it."

"Oh shit I don't got it!" Someone nearly yelled and Westmoreland had to race in to catch the slipping end of the pipe.

"I'm getting to old for this macho crap." He growled as he too strained with the heavy pipe.

"Set it down!" Michael said, "Nice and easy just right here." The room was filled with grunts as the pipe was lowered and finally touched the ground with a soft ping of noise.

"You guys ok?" Lincoln's voice came from above and relieved grins spread across the six inmates faces.

"Hope you got your next move planned Pretty." T-Bag said, peering suspiciously at the small vent in the ceiling. Michael grinned and looked up as well,

"Should have told you guys to start dieting." He said and everyone's eyes went to the teeny whole in the ceiling.

"Ah hell." Said C-Note.

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Air. Real air. Fresh air. It was cold, biting almost, but it was still free air.

T-Bag dropped over the other side of the wall and scurried into the shadows after the other inmates, turning and watching as Westmoreland did the same.

"I thought you said your _friends_ would be here." Abruzzi growled turning to C-Note. "I don't see them."

"Yo chill! They'll be here!" C-Note growled back, worriedly checking the road. Sirens went off at the prison and searchlights slammed on.

"We don't have time." Michael said, turning and leading the group through the shadows and then bursting into a run down Fitz.

The first alleyway loomed up and the group bolted around the corner, nearly tripping over themselves as they skidded to a halt; headlights blinding them. A dark head suddenly popped out the window and a voice hissed at them over the thrum of the old truck's engine.

"Didn't Celia tell ya'll to not be late! Gah! Get in the damn car, we gotta speed!" The men, to stunned to question anything, clambered into the vehicle and the boy slammed on the gas pedal. The old truck leapt from its hiding place and several of the cons were thrown backwards.

"Better buckle up, ya'll in for a bumpay ride!"

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T-Bag was sitting in the front seat of the truck and his hand gripped at the door handle as Damian roared round another corner, the shoddy sounding engine coughing in protest.

"Whoa boy! I wanna live long enough to enjoy ma freedom! Even know how to drive this thing!" Damian grinned in response as he swerved around another corner, giving out a 'yehaa' as the tires skidded against the asphalt.

"Nah, who need's teachen'? S'basically touch n' go." Fields were racing past now but Damian still didn't let up on the gas pedal. Every so often he'd pat the dashboard and urge the car on, talking to it like it was a real person.

Finally the boy slowed down and the cons let out a collective sigh, Damian grinned at this.

"Should have known T-Bag's offspring would be crazy."

"Pienso que rompí mi asno!" Sucre groaned in the back. Damian gave them a shrewd grin.

"Fox River must be overrated then."

"I think I'm gonna hurl." Sucre murmured, clutching his stomach. Damian suddenly looked panicked and glanced back into his review mirror.

"Not in ma truck! Out the window if ya have to! Hey, Michael Scofield there's a plastic bag at your feet!" There was the rustling of a plastic bag and then silence filled the car, Sucre pushing the bag away saying he didn't actually need it. Damian occasionally stared into the back seating and then would pat the dashboard reassuringly again.

"So do I have anymore rugrats runnin' around?" T-Bag drawled, breaking the silence. Damian glanced over at him, scowling momentarily before looking back at the road and then nodding.

"Ya. Two. Sarafina and-"

"Sarafina?" T-Bag asked wrinkling his nose. "Hell kinda name is that?" Damain grinned and then gave a boyish laugh.

"She hates been called Sarafina, so for most part we's all just call her Sara. She's somethin' like three-four years older 'en me; and boy she can be a right bitch." Damian gave another soft laugh. "Ah, but she ain't that bad really. Once ya get to know her. She's just a bit…cold."

"And who's this other 'mystery child'?"

"That'd be Celia." Damian paused for a moment and the grin slid off his face, a rather bemused expression entering his dark eyes. "There ain't a way to describe her, ya'll just gotta meet her for yerselves."

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Damian slowed down the car even further and pulled off the rickety road and onto a dirt track, the engine rumbling every time it had to climb out of a pot hole. Finally a rather rundown farmhouse came into view, dead field grass surrounding and what could once have been a beautiful pond to the left of the house.

"Hot damn, we made it." Damian said with a smile, parking the truck just to the right of the entrance of the house. "Let's go." He said and then climbed out without another word, pushing his seat forward so the cons in the back could clamber out.

"Sara! Celia! We gots company!" Damian yelled, a rueful grin spreading across his lips. The eight males stood in the hallway, Damian just off to the side and leaning casually against the wall, T-Bag standing up at the front of the group.

Then all of a sudden they were there; two girls walking down creaky stairs. The smallest girl had a hand on the railing and her other hand was held by the older girl. The youngest was taking one step at a time, but her blue eyes were forward and they were milky blue of unseeing eyes. Although the older girl was striking, it was the smaller one who first grabbed everyone's attention. She realised the older girl's hand once they had reached the bottom of the stairs and then moved carefully to the group of men.

The little girl stopped within inches of T-Bag and reached up carefully, a pale hand closing around one of his fingers and gently tugging him down. T-Bag knelt in front of the little girl who couldn't be more than eight years old, but he couldn't hold her stare for long. Those cloudy blue eyes were piercing and they were boring right into his brown ones.

The girl lifted both her hands and placed them on T-Bag's face, feeling out the cheekbones, eyes, nose, forehead and lips. Finally she let her hands fall back to her sides and a small smile played about the pale pink lips.

"Hello Theodore." Her voice wasn't the voice that should belong to a child; it was older and wiser in a way.

"Celia?" T-Bag recognized the voice now, and once again the warning bells went off in his mind like her voice was something…unnatural, uncanny.

Celia didn't respond in words, only smiling that small smile and nodding her head so wispy tendrils of white gold hair fell across her face. "You remember me?" She asked.

"Only your voice." T-bag managed.

"…Do you remember my mother?" There was a long silence and Celia's smile was a sad one, but she smiled nonetheless. "I had a mother, I have yet to have a father." She turned and walked over to Damian, reaching up for him and the fifteen year old complied, scooping up the skinny wisp of a girl.

It was then that the older girl stepped forward – Sara. T-Bag stood quickly, clearing his throat rather gruffly but stopping as he finally caught sight of his older daughter. She was…gorgeous. Long blond hair that cascaded past her shoulders, rather sharp nose, pink full lips, a tall and slender frame and the iciest blue eyes. They had the same dark, hateful look that T-Bag often wore when dealing with someone he didn't like. The same 'I would love to hurt you right now but that'll just have to wait' look in them. She stepped up closer, raising her head slightly in a kind of assessing way. She was a few inches taller than him and very slowly the corners of her lips turned up in a cocky sneer.

"Hm. Shorter than I expected."


	5. The Ice Queen

Title: Mistakes Come In Threes

Summary: The boy's eyes narrowed and a flicker of disgust twisted his lips into a sneer. "I'm your son jackass."

Disclaimer: Pah I wish I owned Prison Break! 'Cept if I did, the show probably wouldn't do that well what with me not knowing much about television business and all :P

Author's Note: I have no legitimate excuse for being away for so long, I just lost my muse for this story. Lots of shorty chapters coming up cause I'm trying to rebuild my muse for this story. Anyways, so sorry and hope you enjoy this chapter!

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"Damn T-Bag, your daughter's hot!" Lincoln said with a joking grin on his face.

"Ya, I could always use a new mistress." Abruzzi added with a small laugh. T-Bag shot them a warning glance as Damian shouted from the kitchen,

"Hey you guys hungry?" Michael broke free from the group and stepped rather hesitantly into the family room that looked in on the kitchen.

"Ya, I think we could use some food, thanks." Michael looked around the room and then caught sight of the little girl Celia, sitting on a thread bare chair, hands folded carefully on her lap and her milky eyes set on some unseeing point over Michael's shoulder. Michael gave her a small smile and a rather nervous wave before dropping his hand, feeling like a complete idiot. Of course she couldn't see him smile or wave. But then the little girl smiled back, unclasping her hands and raising one ever so slightly, waving it back and forth in his direction.

"How-"

"Food's up!" Damian said, bringing in bowls of macaroni and cheese, setting them round various places where mismatched chairs were. "Get you guys somethin' ta drink?"

"Have any beer?" Lincoln asked, helping Damian with some of the bowls and setting them on the coffee table.

"Oh yes, that's just what we need, drunken felons." Came a cool voice from the kitchen, and there was Sara, standing and holding two bowls of macaroni and cheese, one of which she gave to Celia and the other one she shoved at Damian.

"Sara ya promised to be nice." Damian muttered, turning his back on the haggard looking cons and glowering at his older sister who gave him a fake smile.

"I lied." She sat down on the floor by Celia's chair, crossing her long legs and regarding the cons with cold eyes. Damian glared at her for a moment before turning back to the others and shaking his head.

"Nah sorry, don't have any beer." Lincoln shrugged and picked up his bowl, choosing a worn seat and then digging into his own food.

Sarafina sat stiffly in the large room, the silence broken only by the loud chewing of hungry cons that'd lived off of disgusting prison food for a long time.

"I just have a question," Michael said suddenly, placing his untouched bowl back onto the coffee table.

"Ya, anymore food?" Sucre asked with a laugh. Michael grimaced and pushed his bowl of macaroni over to the Hispanic man before continuing.

"How did you find out?" Sara glanced at Damian who looked between her and Celia, and she knew just what her younger half-brother was thinking, 'how much do we tell them?'

"Through research and a hell of a lot of luck Mr. Scofield." Sara replied cutting off whatever Damian was going to say. Michael gave her a funny look before a smirk appeared on his lips.

"That doesn't answer my question."

"I know." An uncomfortable silence swept through the room and a few of the male cons shifted uneasily.

"So, not much of a people pleaser eh?" Sucre said lightly, clearly trying tomake an easy joke and clear away the tension in the air, of course he regretted it as soon Sara turned and smirked at him, dislike evident in her icy blue eyes.

"I'm not here to entertain you." If there was any way to make a situation more awkward and uncomfortable, if she could have made them feel anymore unwelcome, well Sarawould have found it. "Come on Celia, it's past your bed time." She growled suddenly, getting to her feet and gently picking up the young girl who wrapped her legs and arms around her older half-sisters waist and neck. Celia rested her head against Sara's shoulder and waved good-bye to the cons as Sara left the room.

"Don't worry, she's just having her period." Damian said as soon as she left, cracking a grin.

"Shut up Damian!"

"See?"


	6. Early Morning Encounters

Title: Mistakes Come In Threes

Summary: The boy's eyes narrowed and a flicker of disgust twisted his lips into a sneer. "I'm your son jackass."

Disclaimer: Pah I wish I owned Prison Break! 'Cept if I did, the show probably wouldn't do that well what with me not knowing much about television business and all :P

Author's Note: I decided to get another one out nice and quick, you guys deserve it. Hope you like it :D Hehehe Sara is such a bitch :P

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T-Bag woke with a start, staring around at the room in confusion. Over by the other wall was Sucre, C-Note and Westmoreland, each sound asleep. It took a minute for the Southern man to regain his bearings and remember how it was that he had come to be in this room.

Slowly the night's events played back in his mind and T-Bag layback down on the uncomfortable blow up mattress. He stared up at the stained ceiling thinking what he was going to do next and wishing that he could just drop off back to sleep. There was still Susan to see, her address was still in his pocket. What was stopping him from just up and leaving tomorrow morning? It wasn't like he was tied to the others now, and Damian, Celia and Sara could survive by themselves – especially Sara. T-Bag sighed and ran a hand through thinning hair, glancing at the prison issued watch that he still wore: 4:23 AM. T-Bag sighed again and shifted onto his side, trying to get back to sleep but after five minutes, gave up and decided to head down stairs.

He saw a light pooling out from the kitchen and headed to that direction, catching sight of Sara sitting at a table with her hands wrapped around a mug of coffee. She glanced up at him, both of them starring at each other in surprise as if they hadn't suspected the other to be up, before glancing away again.

"Hey, got anymore of that, eh coffee?" T-Bag asked rather groggily. Sara nodded and pointed over to the half full pot, indicating that mugs were in the cupboard above. T-Bag poured himself a mug full and then paused, "Got any sugah?"

"Nope." Sara replied rather flippantly.

"What? No sugah, what the hell kinda home is this?" Sara turned and returned his glower evenly.

"Money doesn't grow on trees you know. Sugar isn't a necessity, and I'm sure a tough con like yourself can learn to live without." She replied coldly, turning back and taking a sip of her black coffee. T-Bag muttered darkly under his breath, picking up his mug and taking a seat at the table.

"What about milk? That only for special occasions?" He asked sarcastically.

"Damn straight." Sara replied with a small smirk.T-Bagshook his head andtook a test sip of the coffee and immediately wished he hadn't.

"Blech!" His face twisted into sharp distaste for the liquid that he was forced to swallow, a tiny smile ghosted across Sara's face as she glanced up at him. A silence drifted between them as T-Bag settled back down, looking around the kitchen rather curiously. "Soooo," He drawled after a while, twiddling his thumbs slightly. "What you guys do around heah for fun?" He asked casually though Sara immediately looked over at him sharply, a mixture of disgust and utter repulsion in her gaze. T-Bag's eyes widened with quick understanding and he half raised his hands in mock surrender. "Aw come on, I didn't mean it like that…"

"Whatever," Sarafina muttered with a roll of her eyes. "I knew this was a mistake." T-Bag cocked his head to the side, and for the first time since they'd met, really regarded his oldest daughter. It was so strange to think of her that way.

"Ya don't like me do ya Sarafina?" He asked suddenly, keeping his voice casual though still staring at her in a curious manner.

"No, Theodore, I don't like you." Sara replied coolly, returning his stare with hard blue eyes. His thin pink lips twitched up in a momentary small smile and he leant in slightly.

"So why did ya do it then?" He asked quietly, "If ya hate me so much why did ya help me escape?" Sara hunkered her shoulders slightly so that she was leant in to, her light blue eyes holding his hazel-brown ones. Now he could see that she did share his blood, she had his temper, he could see it in her eyes. That same look that said, 'if I wasn't totally obliged to not hurting you right now, I would so make you bleed.' The same calculating and shrewd stare that assessed and judged you right in that moment and if you didn't meet the standards you were tossed to the side and good luck trying to get her attention again.

"I wanted see if you were worth the time." She finally replied after a pause. "Clearly I was wrong." T-Bag was still for a moment before giving an odd sort of snort and then looking away. Yup, she even had his smart mouth to. "I'm going to bed." Sara said suddenly, getting up and pouring the last of her coffee into the sink, washing out the cup and then putting it away.

"Oh and _T-Bag_ don't forget to wash up your cup when your done, we didn' t bust you out to do your dishes for you." T-Bag rolled back into his chair as Sara turned and walked from the room, crossing his arms across his chest and staring after her. Damian had been right; she was cold.


End file.
